


Denerim After Dark

by Lannister418



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dalish Elves, Denerim, F/M, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mage Rebellion, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lannister418/pseuds/Lannister418
Summary: Myrha Lavellan's first day in her new apartment doesn't go quite as she expected when an act of kindness finds her dealing with a former Templar suffering a severe withdrawal crisis; a challenging introduction to her new neighbours and one that has the young doctor thinking on her feet





	1. Meeting the Neighbours

**Author's Note:**

> ***Trigger Warnings***  
> Drug withdrawal, withdrawal symptoms. Drug addiction
> 
> ***Disclaimer***  
> All Dragon Age characters and settings are copyright, and are used here for purely non-commercial entertainment purposes
> 
> Reviews and constructive feedback are always welcome; especially as this is my first bash at a modern-day Thedas story!

Myrha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting to three, then opened them again.

_Okay, I’m not hallucinating; there is a dog the size of a small pony in the living room_

‘Woof!’  The massive hound barked happily, staring at her with liquid brown eyes, as its stumpy tail pounded the floor. 

She’d seen pictures of Mabari before, the huge dogs native to Ferelden, and spotted a couple around town but never been this close to one.  Sitting on its haunches, the top of its head was almost level with her shoulder, powerful muscles visible beneath a sleek, brindled coat.  Centuries before they were bred for war, and were still the dog of choice for many security forces.  This one seemed friendly, but she didn’t want to take too many chances…  Getting eaten on the first day in her new apartment wasn’t at the top of her to-do list

“Good…. Boy…?” she ventured, carefully, trying to keep her voice and body language soft and unthreatening

‘Woof!’ The tail still hammered off the floor and she realised it wasn’t staring at her so much as the jumbo triple-chocolate chip muffin in her hand.

“You… you want this?”

‘Woof!’

It surely couldn’t understand her?  But she had read somewhere about Mabari having a high level of intelligence, equivalent to a 5-year-old human child so, maybe...

…Well, she could do without the calories anyway.  Myrha removed the wrapper from the muffin and slowly held it out on her open hand.  The dog leaned forwards and took the muffin from her with surprising gentleness, swallowing it with a single gulp, then rubbed its head against her still-extended hand

‘Woof!’

“You’re… welcome, I guess?”

The dog twisted its head up and to one side so she could see the large nametag hanging from its collar.  Myrha crouched down to read it

_'Hello, my name is Dog…'_

“Dog? Really?”

Dogs can’t shrug, but Dog’s expression indicated it would if it could

_'…I belong to Allie Redcliffe in Apt 317, 241 Luthian Avenue, Denerim.  If you find me, please take me home because he will be sad I am gone…'_ followed by a cartoon drawing of a sad face '.. _.but when I get back he will be happy…'_   followed by a cartoon happy face ' _…and give you a reward. P.T.O.'_

“We certainly wouldn’t want Allie to be sad -  would we, Dog?” Myrha laughed, scratching Dog behind the ear and turning the disk over

‘Woof!’

_'…I don’t bite nice people, only people who are mean to me and Allie.  I like chocolate…'_

Myrha laughed

“I know that already…”

_'…and I like cheese, but please don’t give me cheese as it makes me fart and that makes Allie barf '_ followed by a cartoon sick face.

“Well, I guess I’d better take you back home then…”  Apt 317 was on the floor above.  That would teach her to make sure the door was properly closed the next time she popped down to the coffee shop for five minutes.  Evelyn had warned her that some of the other tenants in the building were a bit eccentric and this _Allie Redcliffe_ appeared to fall into that category

‘Woof’

###

It was on the third knock that she finally heard a voice shouting

“Okay, okay…I’m coming”

The door opened to reveal a tall, muscular red-haired man in sleeveless t-shirt and basketball shorts, he seemed flustered and annoyed, but a broad smile crossed his face as Dog jumped up at him with a gleeful ‘Woof’

“Dog! You found Dog!  Thank you…”

“Well, he found me really, but you’re welcome.”

“That’s… that’s great… Look, I’d invite you in, but…” he glanced over his shoulder, clearly anxious about something “It’s a bit…”

A long, low groan sounded along the hallway, someone in pain…

“Is everything okay?” Myrha asked, professional concern taking over.

“Sorry, my roomie’s a bit sick… I can’t…”

“I’m a doctor” _Well, in Ostwick anyway_ “I can take a look at him if you want…”

“Look, I… I…” Another groan and the red-haired man, presumably Allie, shifted nervously from foot to foot “Could you? Please? I don’t know what to do…”

Myrha followed Allie down the hallway and into the bedroom at the end; she could smell sickness as soon as they got close. Dog sat himself down by the door with a small concerned ‘wuf’

A blond man in t-shirt and track pants lay curled on the bed, clutching his stomach and moaning in pain, shivering and soaked with sweat.  Myrha crouched beside the bed and placed a hand on his forehead; cold and clammy, temperature dropping rapidly.  She drew back one eyelid with her thumb, the pupil contracted to little more than a pinprick.  Drug reaction… no doubt about it

“When did this start?” she asked

“About… about an hour ago” Allie was still shuffling nervously “We were playing football in the park when he started having stomach pains… by the time we got home…”

“And you didn’t think to call anyone?” Myrha’s tone was sharp, this man was in serious trouble and Allie’s awkwardness was rapidly losing whatever charm it initially might have had.

“I… It’s complicated” he muttered.  Myrha sighed with annoyance

“Okay, what’s he taken…?”

“He’s not taken anything, Like I said it… it’s…”

So, it was withdrawal then.  That could be much worse, depending on what he was coming off.

“Fine, he’s not taking anything. What _was_ he taking?”

Allie hesitated again and this time Myrha’s strained patience snapped

“Look, if you don’t tell me what he’s been on then I can’t help him; he might die, do you want that?”

“Lyrium!” Allie blurted out “He’s been taking Lyrium, but not for over a year.”

Lyrium? Creators!  She’d never run across a case of this before; that was Chantry territory and they kept their secrets close.

“Is it always this bad?” It was hard to believe someone could be experiencing such severe symptoms after so long but this was a drug she knew virtually nothing about.  She knew a little bit from Evelyn, but Dalish Mages never used the stuff; one of the reasons they were exempt from the Registration Laws.

Allie shook his head

“He… he has bad days, but nothing like this.  Is… is he going to be okay?”

Mytha sat back on her heels.  Despite the sweating and the sickness, the man on the bed was handsome, in his late twenties or early thirties, blond curly hair stuck to his head with sweat.  She ran her hand over his forehead gently.

“I don’t know, Allie, but I’ll do my best. What’s his name?”

“Cullen, but his friends call him Curly…” Allie paused “Well, I call him Curly.”

“Curly, can you hear what I’m saying?” Myrha took his hand “Squeeze my hand if you can…”

There was another, softer moan, and the grip on her hand tightened faintly. 

“You’re going to be all right, we just need to get your temperature back up” She turned to look at Allie. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s one through there” Allie pointed at a door on the other side of the bedroom “It’s an en-sui… acck! Oh Maker!”

He gagged as a strong, foetid smell filled the room and a dark, damp, stain spread over the seat of Curly’s trackpants.

Myrha groaned inwardly, this wasn’t unusual in these situations but she could have done without it right now

“Help me get him through to the bathroom…”

Allie gagged again, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth

“Look… acck! I’m not good with… acck! Poop stuff… acck!”

“And I’m not good with carrying six-foot men by myself! Short and slight, if you hadn’t noticed!” she snapped “Go puke if you must but help your friend first!”

Holding his breath, Allie hauled Curly off the bed and half-led, half dragged him through to the bathroom; Myrha doing her best to support him on the other side.  At 5’2” she was at least a foot shorter than either of these men and, like most women of her clan, slender and delicate in build.  The sick man’s moans were becoming increasingly distressed as they got him into the tub and Myrha started to strip off his soiled garments

Allie rushed out making loud retching noises as soon as Curly was in the tub so Myrha kept up a soft, soothing monologue as she tested the temperature of the shower water.

“You’re going to feel a little warm water on your skin in a moment” she adjusted the dial so the water would be warm enough not to drop his temperature any further, but not so hot as to risk scalding “Then once I’ve cleaned you up I’m going to start increasing the temperature very slowly to get you warmed back up again, that should make you feel a little better…”

The sensation of the water running over him seemed to relax Curly, although he was still barely conscious as Myrha gently sponged him clean.  Behind her, she could hear Allie spraying what was probably air freshener around the bedroom.

“Is there anything he uses to deal with his symptoms?” she called through, Allie appeared in the doorway with a spray-can labelled ‘Harvestmere Rose’ in his hand.

“There’s…” he paused in thought for a moment “There’s a couple of things on the top shelf of the cabinet; he calls it his ‘rescue kit’”

Capsules of Royal Elfroot and a half-full bottle of concentrated Crystal Grace extract.  Myrha nodded approvingly to herself; Curly had clearly done some research into dealing with addiction.  He probably wouldn’t be able to swallow a capsule at the moment but, if she broke it open into water and added the Crystal Grace…  She smiled, it was the kind of ‘Think-on-your-feet’ medicine that Dr Anders at the Clinic encouraged.  All it needed was a little… she concentrated and the mixture in the glass glowed a faint greenish-blue for a second.

###

“I think he’s through the worst of it…” The combination of warm water and ad-hoc ‘healing potion’ was bringing his temperature back to normal and his skin was regaining its natural colour. “What he needs now is some rest.”

Allie breathed a sigh of relief

“Thank you… thank you so much.  Maybe if we put him on the living-room couch so I can keep an eye on him? That is, if he isn’t…?”

Myrha smiled at him.  She’d been a bit rough earlier, but he was clearly out of his depth in this situation and was trying to do his best.

“I’d maybe put a mattress-protector down, if you have one, but the stomach cramps have stopped so I don’t think there’ll be any more ‘accidents’”

They got him through onto the couch and settled him on his side with a thick quilt over him.  Allie collapsed back into a recliner with a loud exhale

“He is going to be _SO_ embarrassed about this when he wakes up…”

Myrha brushed her hair back from her face, feeling a deep sense of relief flooding through her; this was very different to the afternoon she’d been planning, but Mythal only knew what might have happened to this man if Dog hadn’t decided to go wandering…

“He shouldn’t be; dealing something this intense unaided is a very brave, if foolish, thing to do” She paused “Don’t the Templars have any sort of recovery programme for veterans?”

Allie looked at her in surprise and she laughed

“Lyrium for a start, and that…” she pointed to the stylised flaming sword tattooed on the now sleeping man’s bicep.

“Oh, of course…” Allie nodded with a foolish grin “I don’t think there are many ex-Templars, and they like to keep hold of the ones that do leave.  It’s kinda rough, really.  When Curly left he wanted to prove it was possible to break that hold.  He’s an all-or-nothing kinda guy…”

Myrha spotted the time.  Shit! It was almost 7 and she was on night-shift at the clinic tonight.

“Look, I have to go…” she hated leaving in the middle of a situation like this but Anders didn’t have anyone else to cover tonight.  She handed Allie her card “Make sure he drinks plenty of water and give me a call if there’s any problems.  He should probably go for a full check-up at the earliest opportunity…”

“Thanks… thanks very much Dr…” he glanced down at the card “Lavellan”

“Call me Myrha” she laughed “I think washing poop off your room-mate probably qualifies us for first-name terms…”

###

“You’re _almost_ late…” Dr Anders mock-frowned as she hung her coat up “I _almost_ didn’t get you this...”

He handed her the take-out cup of hot chocolate, swimming with marshmallows

“You’re a lifesaver!” she sighed happily “I’ve just had the strangest introduction to my new neighbours…”

Anders had been a lifesaver in more ways than one.  His Free Clinic in one of the worst neighbourhoods in Denerim might lack the resources of some of the fancier, uptown, practises but it was still licensed and that allowed her to earn the extra credits she needed to get a Fereldan Medical License.  It was infuriating that Ferelden refused to recognize Free-Marcher medical qualification without a minimum of 480 practise hours in a Fereldan clinic, and frustrating that openings seemed to evaporate as soon as interviewers saw the Vallaslin on her face.  If Zev hadn’t introduced her to Dr Anders she didn’t know what she would have done.  Evelyn could have got her father to pull a few strings if she asked, but that felt too much like cheating; she had to do this on her own abilities. Besides, this place was perfect for what she wanted to do and it _was_ making a difference; no matter how small

“Sound’s interesting!” Anders laughed “Tell me about it while we do rounds.  I should warn you, it’s going to be a bad shift; there’s been a batch of tainted Tevinter Black hitting the streets and it’s not pretty…”


	2. Nice To Traumatise You Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving someone a 'thank you' present should be perfectly simple but nothing in Cullen Rutherford's life ever goes exactly to plan.  
> A pleasant conversation with Dr Lavellan takes an unexpected dark turn sending the former Templar into retreat.  
> Myrha gets a glimpse of what Cullen does for a living and Cullen gets some semi-useful advice from a colleague

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger Warnings***  
> Angst Referenced/past violence Referenced/past terrorist attack  
> Needless to say, referenced telephone numbers and emails are purely fictitous
> 
> ****Disclaimer****  
> All characters and settings from the Dragon Age Universe are used here solely for non-commercial entertainment purposes

Cullen took a deep breath, running the words through his head yet another time,

_Dr Lavellan? I got you this to say thank you for your help.  I’m sorry if I spoiled your first day in the building…_

A sudden knot of panic tightened in his stomach as he looked at the potted plant in his hands.  Maker! Would she think he was being patronising? _‘You’re Dalish, so you must like flowers…’_

“You’re overthinking this Curly, I can see steam coming out your ears” Allie lolled on the couch, watching cartoons and idly scratching Dog behind his head “It’s a ‘thank-you’ present not a marriage proposal; just try not to poop yourself the moment you see her, _again_ ”

“I don’t need reminded of that, _thanks_ ” Cullen growled, picking up his jacket and the plant.  He was grateful to Allie for letting him rent the spare room, the apartment was nearer to the Bureau than anything he could have afforded on his own and having a familiar face around was helping him settle; but sometimes the man could be a real idiot.

_Dr Lavellan? I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble the other day; I hope you like plants…_

He stopped outside the door of 213; heart pounding in his chest.  This was ridiculous, he never got this nervous in the field or at the Bureau; if anything, he _made_ people nervous there.  All he was doing was saying ‘thank you’ to a woman who had gone out of her way to help him in a crisis.  It was a perfectly normal thing to do…

_Dr Lavellan? I’m very grateful for what you did for me the other day. I don’t know if you like plants, but I thought this might look nice on a windowsill…_

That was perfect; casual enough so it didn’t sound like he was making assumptions.  She must be in, he could hear music; something light and classical.  Cullen took a deep breath and rang the bell.  After a few seconds, he heard footsteps approaching the door

_Dr Lavellan? I’m very grateful…_

The door opened and the words dried up in Cullen’s throat.  He couldn’t remember much about the afternoon he collapsed, or about the downstairs neighbour who’d come to his aid; Alistair had said Dr Lavellan was pretty, but the woman who opened the door was _lovely_ … truly the loveliest he’d ever seen.  With her delicate, heart-shaped face and curling black hair cut in a loose bob she looked like an actress in of those old black and white movies Cassandra secretly liked to watch; the impression of classic glamour heightened by the contrast of her pale, clear, complexion and dark ruby lipstick.  A tracery of fine, intricately woven, red lines fanned up from the bridge of her nose and spread over her high, well-shaped, forehead; their interlacings reminding him of one of the rose-windows in Denerim Cathedral…

Cullen gradually became aware of a pair of light greenish-blue eyes regarding him with amused curiosity

“Can I help…?” Recognition suddenly shone in those _beautiful_ eyes and her faint smile became genuinely warm “It’s Cullen, isn’t it? From 317?  I was going to call up later and see how you were doing...”

He _was_ looking better. At first, she hadn’t recognised the immaculately groomed man in the black suit as the sweating, barely conscious wreck from two day ago. He looked… well, he looked incredible, if she was going to be unprofessional about it; handsome, in a rugged, intense way that was only enhanced by the scar on his lip while the generic, off-the-peg, suit did nothing to disguise the powerful physique that filled it out. 

If it had been a copy of the Chant of Light he was holding, instead of a potted plant clutched to his chest like a breastplate, he might have been some clean-cut missionary about to ask if she had a few minutes to talk about Andraste…

His anxiety was obvious, far beyond the shyness that might be expected of a natural introvert in these circumstances.  Given what little she knew of the man’s history, ex-Templar fighting withdrawal from the highly-potent form of Lyrium they were rumoured to use, a preliminary diagnosis of moderate to severe PTSD wasn’t unreasonable.

“…Please come in, how are you feeling?”

“Much… much better… thank you” Cullen stepped into the apartment, looking around him nervously, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while the other extended the plant “I… I bought you this to say thank you…”

She took it from him and raised it to her nose; it was some kind of Orchid, unfamiliar to her, but with a light, musky scent

“Oh, thank you so very much!  This is lovely, but there was no need…”

Cullen shook his head

“Al… Alistair told me you just moved in.  I… I guess I wasn’t the best welcome to the building so I thought…” he hesitated, still looking around the room, everywhere but at her “Do… do you like it? I… I’m not good at buying presents…”

“I told you, it’s lovely…  Would you like a cup of tea?”

_And you’re clearly not good in unfamiliar social situations either…_

“I… That would… I mean…” he cleared his throat and took a deep breath “Thank you, Dr Lavellan, tea would be very kind of you…”

“Kitchen’s this way” she smiled.  “And please, call me Myrha.”

He followed her through to the kitchen.  The apartment was smaller than the one he shared with Alistair; a furnished let, judging by the blandly tasteful décor.  A few personal touches were already creeping in; bright red and gold throws on the oatmeal-coloured suite, a kitschy bamboo curtain with a beachscape painted on it hanging in the kitchen doorway, a joss-stick burning in front of what looked like a stylised owl-figure on the mantelpiece.  Books and CD’s piled everywhere, awaiting their allocated place

“Myrha, that… that’s a nice name, is it short for something?  I always understood Dalish names were quite long.”

“It’s short for Myr’ha-seih’nen” She smiled again as she filled the kettle, most shem… most humans never thought to ask, “It roughly translates as ‘sunlight on water’”

“Myr’ha-seih’nen…” he got the pronunciation right first time, and the way it rolled off his tongue made a little shiver run up her spine “That’s… really beautiful”

“Thank you, do you speak any Elvhen?  Your pronunciation is very good…”

He shook his head, a slight flush reddening his cheeks

“No, I… I’m just good at listening… I’m afraid all I know about the Dalish is from a couple of documentaries.”

Myrha laughed, humans always felt the need to apologise for not being experts on Elvhen language, culture and history.  It was silly really, especially as most of them seemed to know little enough about their own.

“Well, all I know about Ferelden is from this…” she picked up a copy of the ‘Rough Guide to Denerim’ from the worktop “So please, don’t be embarrassed about that.”

He took the book from her and flicked through it; she’d circled a couple of nearby coffee-houses, a bookstore that specialised in modern literature, one or two music venues and, he smiled a little at this, the same Qunari take-away that he and Alistair used when they got bored of pizza.

“Pashmaild’s good! You should try their spicy tusket and three-rice medley…” He hesitated, anxiety surging back “Oh… oh… you… you’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“Most Dalish aren’t…” Myrha smiled reassuringly, his frantic determination not to cause offence was really quite sweet “Only the ones that run ‘Power Dreaming’ weekends for rich hippies…  And I’ll definitely be trying the spicy tusket tonight, it sounds delicious”

Her accent had a light musical lilt to it, not unknown to him…

“Alistair mentioned you were from the Free Marches; Ostwick or maybe Wycome?”

“You _do_ have a good ear” Myrha set two mugs on the table “I grew up in Wycome; most of the Dalish in the East Marches live there, or in Markham, but I did my training and internship at Ostwick Royal Infirmary…”

Cullen did a brief mental calculation and felt the knots in his stomach tighten again

“You would have been there when…”

She nodded. She and Evelyn had been in the first few weeks of their Internship, still wet behind the ears from medical school, when the terrorist organisation ‘Voice of Justice’ detonated a massive explosive device beneath Kirkwall Cathedral; cutting a swathe of devastation across the city.  Myrha could still remember standing in the break room, hands pressed to her mouth in shock and horror, as the news broke; and the look on the Chief of Medicine’s face as she appeared in the doorway with the words ‘Get ready…’

Kirkwall General had been wrecked by the debris raining down, and Ostwick Royal Infirmary was the nearest emergency department capable of dealing with the worst cases.  For the next ten days or more, every available nurse and doctor lived in the hospital, grabbing what food and sleep they could manage.

“…Mostly crush, burn and blast injuries; some gunshot wounds” Myrha cradled the mug of tea in her hands “I lost more patients in those few days than… well, you just moved on to the ones who had a chance…”

She put her mug down and wiped her eyes.  Half the interns in her year had dropped out through breakdowns or sheer exhaustion during those days.  More than once she’d fought the urge to run screaming from the building and never come back.  At the end, as the dust finally settled and the emergency rooms cleared; Dr Benoit had looked at the small knot of ‘survivors’ and simply said ‘Be very proud of yourselves.’

Cullen got to his feet, leaving his own tea untouched on the table, inwardly cursing his idiocy. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I should never have brought this up. I should go…” How could he imagine the woman would want reminded of all that?  He had to make some effort to explain… “It’s just... You see, I was… I was stationed in Kirkwall… During the uprising, I… I…”

Myrha sighed, that didn’t surprise her; in fact, she should have been able to guess.  The situation in Kirkwall had been deteriorating for years, long before the Qunari assault and the Templar coup; if an ex-Templar with addiction issues and PTSD had served anywhere in recent years, it would most likely be there.  Might as well take the plunge…

“You should know something, Cullen” she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and took a deep breath “I’m a Mage.  I don’t support Voice of Justice, the vast majority of Mages don’t.  I wanted to see the Kirkwall situation resolved peacefully; without bloodshed on any side.  What _some_ of the Templars did there was monstrous, but that doesn’t justify the mass-murder of innocent people; and I’m not going to jump to any conclusions about you just because you were stationed there…”

Cullen lowered his head. If she knew, she might not be so generous…

“I used to believe all Mages were potential threats…  I… I try very hard not to think that way now...  If you knew what I…” He couldn’t look her in the eye, for fear of what she might see there; the man he’d been, the things he’d done. He ran his hand through his hair, scratching angrily at the back of his neck, trying to untie the damned knot he kept thinking was there; feeling his eyes begin to sting and water.  Damn!  He’d already ruined another afternoon for Myrh… Dr Lavellan, he didn’t want to make it worse by breaking down in her kitchen

“I should go… I should really go before I upset you anymore.  I’m sorry… I won’t bother you again”

“Cullen, wait…!” Myrha followed him to the door; he paused there, his hand resting on the latch, wanting to leave but still held by some compulsion to hear what she had to say.  “This started off as a nice, enjoyable, conversation and somehow went to a very dark place for both of us.  I… I really don’t think we should leave it there.  I have a couple of free afternoons this week if you want to meet somewhere for coffee and talk… just talk…”

He turned to look at her and she could see the sadness and pain burning deep in his eyes, distrust fighting with the desperate need to connect with someone…

“Please…?” her voice was soft and entreating, slipping its way past his defences “I don’t have that many friends in Denerim… You, Allie and Dog seem like people I would really enjoy having as neighbours and I don’t want things to be awkward…”

Cullen gave a short dry laugh

“More than they already are, you mean?” He sighed and took a card out of his wallet, handing it to her “I have an early shift on Thursday.  Text me if you’re free after 2…”

Myrha looked down at the card as the door closed behind him

**Asst. Commander Cullen S Rutherford**

**Fereldan Bureau of the Inquisition**

**Phne/Txt 13317 445 447**

**Email:** [RutherfordCS@FBI.fer](mailto:RutherfordCS@FBI.fer)

###

“So, you find out the lassie’s from the Marches and the first thing you bring up is Kirkwall?” Lieutenant Rylen shook his head in exasperation “Rutherford, you have no idea how to talk to a woman! In your shoes, I would’ve started off with something light and culturally appropriate, perhaps the Burning of the Temples or the Sack of Halamshiral, and saved the more recent atrocities for the second date…”

“Remind me why I even bothered telling you this?” Cullen growled as he took the coffee the other man offered.

Rylen tilted his head in a pantomime of thought

“Because I’ve served with you longer than anyone else in the Bureau” he mused “And because I’m the only one, other than Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale, who doesn’t shit himself when you frown. I swear poor wee Jim has to take tranquillisers just to knock on your door”

Cullen rested his elbows on his desk and lowered his head to his hands with a groan

“Rylen, what’s wrong with me? _Don’t_ answer that…” Rylen obligingly closed his mouth “I can’t even give a thank-you present without traumatising someone and almost having a breakdown.  The poor woman’s probably looking for another apartment right now…”

“Weeeellll…. She did invite you out for coffee, remember?”

Cullen grunted, head still in hands

“Maybe she wants witnesses when she gives the crazy guy from upstairs the restraining order…”

“Or maybe… and bear with me on this!” Rylen held up an admonitory finger “Maybe she’s trying to find her feet in a new, foreign, city and wants to make some friends.”

Cullen sat back and looked at Rylen, shaking his head slightly

“I’m not the kind of man a decent person like Dr Lavellan would want to have as a friend…”

Rylen sighed, for someone who ran one of the tightest teams in the whole Bureau, Assistant Commander Rutherford _really_ needed to work on his self-esteem.

“Why don’t you let this Dr Lavellan have the chance to decide that for herself?” he suggested “From what you’ve told me, she doesn’t seem like a woman who’s afraid to hold back her opinions…”

There was a knock at the door, and a nervous-looking young man with short brown hair stuck his head in

“Ex… excuse me, Assistant Commander? Seeker Pentaghast would like to see you in her office.”

Cullen stood up and drained his coffee

“Tell her I’ll be there in five minutes…”

Rylen grinned at the young man

“Keep taking the tablets, Jim-lad…”


	3. All Work and No Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A potentially disturbing discovery means more work for Assistant Commander Rutherford and his team, while a simple emoticon may speak volumes to the sharp eyes of one of his colleagues.  
> Myrha discovers she's hosting a surprise party for herself and a disappointing date turns into a strangely rewarding evening...  
> Elsewhere in the city, a sinister project continues to take shape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger Warnings***  
> Referenced violence  
> ***Disclaimer***  
> All Dragon Age characters and settings are copyright, and are used here for purely non-commercial entertainment purposes
> 
> Reviews and constructive feedback are always welcome;

**Myrha:** **Hi Cullen, Myrha Lavellan here. If you’re still free for coffee this afternoon, let me know.  I have a couple of hours to spare. M**

Cullen:   _Hello Myrha. Unfortunately, I can’t get away from work today. I’m very sorry.  I hope you didn’t change any plans on my account. Cullen_

**Myrha:** **Don’t worry. I had the afternoon off anyway and I know what it’s like to have to stay on at short notice.  I’ll see you later, try not to work too hard** **:)**

_Cullen:_ _Thank you for being understanding.  I was honestly looking forward to having coffee with you. I will do my best not to. Have a nice afternoon_ _:)_

Cullen hesitated for a second or two before adding the emoticon, then slipped his phone back into his pocket

“Sorry, just had to cancel an appointment...”

Leliana threw him a sharp sidelong glance

“When did you _ever_ send a text with a smiley face, or receive one for that matter?”

“My private life is just that, private...”  Cullen grumbled, the woman must have near perfect 180-degree vison to have caught that.  Leliana laughed

“Cullen, you don’t have a private life; you work, go to the gym, eat and sleep.  Rylen says the one time they actually got you to go on a team night out, you scowled in the corner for half an hour before muttering something about a headache and leaving...”

Cullen glared at the Head of Covert Operations

“I did have a headache...” He insisted. The bar had been too small, too noisy, too crowded; the pulsing at his temples and sudden shortness of breath the first signs of an approaching anxiety attack “Now if we could get back to the matter in hand?”

“Of course, Assistant Commander...” The hint of a smile passing between Leliana and Josephine suggested that the women would be pursuing the matter of their colleague’s ‘appointment’ at the next convenient opportunity “and I’m inclined to agree with you on this, there’s definitely something unusual about these cases...”

“It was Jim who first noticed it, give him the credit...” Cullen interrupted.  It had been pure chance that he’d sent the Junior Investigator off to review the Cold Case files, little more than a way to get him out of sight after catching him dawdling around the coffee machine one too many times. It may have been inspiration or boredom that got the young man sorting cases by cause of death, but he might just have uncovered something disturbing. Six unsolved, apparently random murders, two of the victims still unidentified; cause of death, blood loss as a result of stab wounds. In all six cases, the bodies hadn’t been found where they died and decomposition was already advanced; just like the derelict recently found in a storm drain on the northern edge of the city. All the identified victims had been transients, with no close friends or family to report them missing.

“Leliana, do you know how many unsolved cases are on the Denerim Police Department’s files?” Josephine sighed “Even if we do think there may be a connection we need something more solid before we can launch a full investigation. There isn’t any evidence that this lies within our remit”

“It’s an anomaly” Cullen retorted “We need to make sure it’s not... anything more.”

“We’re a new bureau, Cullen” Josephine reminded him “We have to be careful that we don’t appear to be overreacting...”

“I’m not starting to see Blood Mages under every bed. If you don’t trust my judgement...”

“We’re not questioning your judgement” Leliana butted in, a harsh defensive edge was creeping into Cullen’s voice and she was keen to avoid this turning into an argument “Just advising caution. I believe we should be looking further into this, if only to rule out any chance of a connection.”

“Fine, I’ll get my team onto it right away” Cullen stood and picked up the files, his already dark mood blackened even further by this conversation “We could probably do with reviewing any physical evidence as well, or would that be _incautious_?”

“I’ll get on to the DPD evidence store and see what can be done” Josephine promised him. The Assistant Commander grunted an acknowledgement and then stormed out

“I wasn’t trying to imply…” Josephine looked imploringly at Leliana, who shook her head slightly

“I know, but I think he’s having a… difficult… time just now.  I’ll speak to Cassandra later…”

###

Cullen pressed his forehead against the cold, tiled, wall of the Men’s Room; breathing slow and deep through his nose to try and bring his heartrate back down, the sour taste of vomit tainting his mouth.  Josephine hadn’t been implying paranoia, he reminded himself, she was only doing her job and trying to keep relations between agencies smooth and cordial.  The Inquisition was an experiment, a way of combatting criminal magic that didn’t rely on the increasingly discredited Templar Order; it had to be careful in its dealings with regular law enforcement or risk losing any chance of being taken seriously.

_I should stop being so paranoid…_

He gave a brief, humourless, snort of laughter and flushed away the half-digested remains of the hot-dog he’d wolfed down at lunch.  He’d better take the news to Rylen, it was going to be a busy afternoon for all of them.

###

“So, man trouble... or woman trouble?”

Zev’s voice was slightly muffled by the scrunchie gripped between his teeth as he rearranged his thick, blond hair.  Myrha stirred her coffee, shaking her head with a laugh

“Now why would you assume it was that?”

“Either you have one and its trouble or, you don’t; that’s a completely different sort of trouble…” Zev wrapped the scrunchie around his hair, now bunched in a loose topknot.  He twisted round to catch his reflection in the mirror behind the counter then turned to look questioningly at Myrha.  She frowned…

“Doesn’t suit you, stick with the ponytail; and I’m just a bit worried about one of my new neighbours…”

“And this new neighbour is genderless? Fascinating… have you informed the Medical Authorities? Such a discovery could make your career” Zev pulled out the scrunchie and shook his hair loose. Myrha shot him a faintly exasperated glance, he _wasn’t_ going to let this go…

“He has a couple of… problems… and I’m just not sure they’re being treated effectively…”

“So… professional concern?” He signalled for more coffee “Or do these ‘problems’ come wrapped in tall, blond and broody?  You have a type, Myrha; a Very. Definite. Type.”

Myrha sighed; she couldn’t remember exactly when she’d first met Zev Arainai but there was a vague memory of a party in her final year at college.  The Antivan yoga teacher/tattoo artist/personal trainer/’massage’ therapist had become an erratic, annoying, and welcome presence in her life ever since; appearing and vanishing at random, usually accompanied by at least one pretty young man or woman hanging on his every word.  Discovering him in Denerim had been a blessing; despite claiming to have only recently arrived, he already had a wide network of contacts and useful names that made her own experience in this intimidating city a lot easier than it might otherwise have been

“I keep bloody telling you, it’s counter service…” Sera snapped as she placed two flat whites in front of them “And that’s 4.60”

“Any yet you keep bringing them… admit it, you love me!” Zev smiled brightly, pulling a 5 Royal note from his wallet and handing it to her “Keep the change…”

“Oh great! I can retire early…” Sera grinned back at him “You’re lucky I do like you, or it’d be more than steamed milk in there…”

She turned to Myrha, hands on hips

“So… when’s the party?”

Myrha looked blankly at the two of them.  To his credit, Zev at least pretended to look sheepish

“I… may told a few people you’re having a housewarming party and invited them on your behalf…”

“Oh, Zev…” she groaned

“What? You know all of them… well, some; you keep saying you need to make more friends here” His disarming smile turned into a sly grin “and you could invite Tall Blond Broody Problem…”

Myrha threw up her hands in surrender

“Fine! Next Saturday at eight, BYOB…  and only if you _promise_ not to call him that…”

“Great!” Sera chirped as she headed back to the counter “I’ll tell Widdles…”

“I promise on the ashes of my long-dead innocence!” Zev swore with mock solemnity “And does TBBP have a friend…?”

“Oh yes, just _your_ type…” Myrha laughed “Redhead, built like a tank and thick as cold porridge…”

“Myrha Lavellan!” Zev exclaimed in theatrical outrage “That’s my future husband you’re talking about!”

Myrha's phone chimed and she read the message with a slight frown

“Where's ‘Venha-daal’?”

“Eurgh!” Sera grimaced “That's the veggie place near the old Alienage! It’s well Elfy!”

“Great! That’s where my date wants to meet me” Myrha glared across the table at Zev “I can't believe you convinced me to go on Tindr!”

“You might be a bit overdressed...” Zev laughed gesturing at Myrha's stylish high-collared blouse and calf length skirt “He could be expecting barefoot and braids!”

Myrha's glare intensified

“If he is, then he can...” she hesitated, briefly lost for words “.... _fenedhis lassa!_ ”

“Oi!” Sera called across “Was that swearing?”

“It certainly was, and disgustingly bad...” Zev shook his head, attempting to appear disapproving “Shame on you, Dr Lavellan!”

Sera chuckled

“That's okay, then! Elfy swears are allowed...”

###

Cullen checked the pulse monitor then began scrolling his playlists. One more lap and he should be sufficiently worn out to get some sleep tonight.  There had been a breakthrough on the case; all seven victims had traces of ligature marks on the ankles, not immediately noticeable due to post mortem conditions, and the clothing recovered from the evidence store showed only residual blood stains.  They had been stripped and strung up before being drained.

If Blood Magic _was_ involved this was the best way of collecting the maximum amount of ‘raw material’, but there was still no evidence to suggest this was in any way connected to the specific areas the Bureau had jurisdiction over.  Even if it was just an ‘ordinary’ serial killer, though, Denerim PD would welcome the specialist expertise the Bureau offered and that could win them much-needed goodwill.

Regardless of the motivation, there was a seriously sick individual out there...

_Seven victims… Seven Old Gods?_

Cullen shook his head to get rid of the thought; latching onto assumptions like that had been one of Meredith’s mistakes, mistakes he’d been more than happy to go along with at the time.  He couldn’t let himself fall back into those habits….

He returned his attention to the screen, trying to decide between _Running Mix 1_ , _Running Mix 2_ , _Running Mix 3_ or _Mixmeister Allie’s Mega Workout/Shagging Beat_ …

He had to stop letting Alistair borrow his iPod…

###

Well, she hadn't quite told him go _fenedhis lassa_ , but the date didn't progress far beyond the organic decaf soy latte, prepared according to an ‘authentic Dalish recipe’. By that stage Myrha couldn't resist breaking the news that coffee didn't arrive in Thedas from Par Vollen until two centuries _after_ the fall of Halamshiral...

Clearly Josh, or _Talanin_ \- his ‘Dalish Spirit Name’ given to him by Keeper Serenity of the Rainbow Clan of All Peoples - _was_ expecting barefoot and braids as Zev had joked, and a fashionably dressed doctor proved insufficiently authentic for his hipster credentials.  As for his parting suggestion that Keeper Serenity might be able to help with her ‘internalised self-oppression’…

Myrha speeded up her pace.  Walking home across the park had seemed like a good idea until she began to notice quite how empty it was, and the depths of the darkness beyond the pools of light cast by the lamps along the path.  The sight of the solitary male figure seated on a bench near the exit made her heart race until she saw it was…

“Cullen?”

He looked up, surprise turning to recognition as she came closer

“Dr Lav… Myrha?  What… what are you doing here?”  He frowned “Have you just walked across the park?”

“Yes, I’ve had a really crappy evening and I needed some air…” Myrha began, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment at how foolish she’d been “I know it’s...”

“Don’t!” Cullen’s sudden vehemence startled both of them and they looked at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued “Sorry… I just mean… It’s dangerous at night; especially… especially for a woman on her own…”

Myrha sat down on the bench beside him

“You are aware that the second most ‘at risk’ group is men in the 25-35 age bracket?” She nodded at the earbuds in his hand “I’ve treated more than one jogger knifed in the back, or worse, for the sake of his iPod”

“Then we’re agreed we both should know better…” Cullen shook his head with a rueful smile “It’s been a tough few days at work, I needed a bit of space to tire myself out…”

Sitting beside someone who was at least a familiar, and not unsympathetic, face; the frustrations boiling inside Myrha finally spilled out…

“I’m just sick of assholes who ‘get my whole experience’ because they’ve read ‘The Dales; My Heart’ and sponsor a sapling in the Emerald Graves.  They see this…” she gestured angrily at the Vallaslin on her forehead “and think that’s who I am; then because I don’t meet their nice romantic stereotypes of the ‘poor forlorn oppressed Dalish girl’ I must be some kind of…”

She grunted in disgust and muttered something under her breath; Cullen guessed it was Elvhen, and uncomplimentary.  He indicated the Templar tattoo on his arm, clearly visible through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

“At least I can hide this under a thick enough shirt; I’ve thought of getting it removed, or covered with another tattoo…” he sighed heavily “I’m not proud of some of the things I did as a Templar, but I still believe in the ideals; it’s not who I am but it’s part of what makes me, and I have to accept that…”

They looked at each other in silence; a brief mutual recognition that they each understood at least something of what the other had to live with day after day.  The silence was broken by Myrha’s laughter, clear and refreshing in the still night air.

“Will we _ever_ have a normal conversation, do you think? The weather… last night’s TV… the price of coffee?” she leaned back, crossing her legs and glancing over at Cullen “Or are we doomed always to go to the heart of each other’s pain?”

It was Cullen’s turn to laugh; a dorky, nasal, snorting that made Myrha smile, it was so out of keeping with the rest of the man…

“Eventually, perhaps, if we have enough conversations…” he blushed suddenly and instinctively began rubbing the back of his neck “I mean… that is… if… if… if you want to have other conversations…”

His stomach growled, loudly, and Myrha laughed again

“I think what we both need right now is to eat.  I certainly need something that isn’t made of lentils and served on damp Spindleweed leaves…” she got to her feet “and, as we’ve agreed that it’s far too dangerous for either of us to be out on our own, I think you should escort me safely to Pashmaild’s and then home…”

###

It was sensible, Cullen had to agree, and it was also sensible that they eat the takeout together in the kitchen of Myrha’s apartment rather than endure the mess and fuss of splitting the contents of the cartons.  As Myrha uncorked the second bottle of wine, he began to realise he was enjoying himself; tucking in to curried fish and spicy noodles while she spoke about her work, her ambitions, the challenges she faced.  Finally, she paused; mid flow…

“I’m sorry…” she smiled at him apologetically “It must be the wine, I don’t usually dominate a conversation like this”

“Don’t apologise, it’s something you’re passionate about, that you believe in…” he forked another piece of fish into his mouth “And the work you’re doing with recovering addicts; that… that’s something I can empathise with…”

Myrha put down her glass

“You know, if you ever need to talk about it… as a friend; you can always give me a call…”

Cullen put his fork down and went quiet, bowing his head slightly.  It took Myrha a moment to realise he was crying…

“Oh! Cullen…” she moved to sit beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder “Cullen… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s… it’s all right… I’m just…” he looked up at her, trying to smile “I’m just not too used to people being kind to me, that’s all…”

Myrha squeezed his shoulder, smiling back at him

“You’ll have me crying if you’re not careful…”

Cullen patted her hand and got to his feet

“It’s probably the wine, I’m not much of a drinker usually, and it’s late; I should get to bed before I embarrass myself any more…”

Myrha accompanied him to the door.  As he turned to say goodnight she gave in to the impulse and went up on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Cullen, sleep well…”

It had to be the wine, no way would he dream of doing this normally; Cullen took her hand, slender and delicate, in his and raised it to his lips; kissing it softly and briefly inhaling the faint fragrance of violets mingled with the spices of the curry.

“Goodnight, Myr’ha-seih’nen Lavellan” he murmured “Thank you… for everything…”

He made his way to the stairs leaving Myrha, open-mouthed with astonishment, standing in the doorway…

###

This batch had been the most promising, crystallisation starting to manifest, but then it had degraded into the same stinking slurry as the other six.  It was frustrating. Every detail of the ritual had been followed; the formula was precise and should not allow for error…

Like the previous six, it was consigned to the incinerator and reduced to inert ash.  With a slight sigh of annoyance, he penned the word ‘Failure’ and placed the journal with the others in the safe, taking a fresh one out of his desk drawer.  Before sitting down, he walked out onto the balcony; lighting a cigarette and slowly inhaling.  He stared at the lights of the city spread out before him; a puny facsimile of the stars above, their splendour dimmed and _blighted_ by this constant artificial glare.

The Master could not be denied; His patience was great, but not inexhaustible.  The problem had to lie with the raw materials.  He’d been careful to choose those who would not be missed, who were already as good as dead to the greater world, but the blood of such creatures was inevitably tainted and impure.  This was his fault, no work as great as this could be without risk, he had sought his own security at the expense of the Master’s goals.  He would no longer permit himself this weakness.

But how?  He took another draw of his cigarette, and the shadow of a smile twitched around his lips as something stirred in his memory.  Going back inside, he took the free paper that got pushed into the mailbox every Friday out of the wastebasket; snippets of bland, local, news funded by even blander advertising.  Flicking through the pages he found what he was looking for.  As he re-read the short announcement his smile became broader, almost a grin, this wasn’t the answer but it was a place to start.  The prophecy _would_ be realised at last…

_One day the magic will come back.  All of it. Everyone will be just like they were.  The shadows will part and the skies will open wide.  When He rises, everyone will see._

 

 


End file.
